


repent

by mirocthound



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Sacrifice, Bloodhound backstory, Gore, Implied Genocide, Rituals, Someone give bloodhound a hug, Violence, although this isn’t my main hc this is a side one, and wraith too tbh, but honestly mostly bloodhound they don’t deserve this, is not linked to the ‘threes a crowd’ series!!!, the major character death is for artur because artur is a major character dammit :((
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22208572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirocthound/pseuds/mirocthound
Summary: Slowly, she ghosts from tree to tree, grateful for the snow to muffle each careful step. Eventually, she creeps close enough to get a clearer view of what thing was crouched in the snow.Her breath hitches, tight and horrified in her lungs.A child.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	repent

**Author's Note:**

> hey, big warning for this one!!! Rated M for mentioned genocide, murder, a whole lotta dead bodies, and violence. please do not read, if any of that bothers you: especially if the idea of violence happening to a child scares you. I’m sorry it’s really fucked up but I wrote it anyways :/// see the end for Icelandic translations. sorry if I got it wrong but we out here using google translate lmaooo

For the first few moments, she is beyond disoriented.

She drags herself up and off the ground, flailing a little, gasping for breath. Her hair, usually tied up in a bun while she slept, had come undone, and stuck in sweaty clumps to her face and neck. She was still in her pajamas, and the air was cold and biting against her exposed skin. 

_ Find them _ . 

The voice is her own, rattling around in her head with a commanding tone. Her heartbeat thunders away in her ears, and she clambers up to her feet. Hands coming up to run furiously at her eyes. 

_ Someone needs to know.  _

Sleepwalking. It must be. It wouldn’t be the first time The Void had called to her during a dream, and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last. 

Renee stumbles forward, feet freezing in the snow. Snow? Where the hell had the void spat her out now?

Overhead, a raven caws.

She whirls around, taking in her surroundings. Small buildings— cabins, really— stand, hollow and barren around her. The world is still and silent, blanketed in snow. The air is hollow. 

It’s getting dark. 

Forward she staggers, arms coming up to wrap around herself and try to keep the warm in. It’s freezing here, and her breath puffs out before her in little clouds. 

“H-hello?”

The only answer before her is a second resounding caw, and she finally cranes her head upwards. Surrounding the little village were trees, so tall, they almost seemed never ending. Perched upon a barren branch, a black little bundle of feathers. It was a small bird, feathers ruffled. It croaked again, before fluttering down to perch on the roof of an empty cottage. It’s movements are clumsy and erratic, like flying is still foreign. It was young. 

She does not know where she is. 

_ Find them,  _ the voice insists again.  _ You’re running out of time. _

_ “ _ I… is there someone here? Anyone?”

The hollow whistle of the wind is her only answer. 

That, and the bird. It lets out another raw sound, rustling it’s little wings. The door to the house it stood upon was ajar, so she shuffled forward. The snow crunched underfoot. Her toes were stinging with the cold, so she hurried inside, pressing the door open. It wasn’t much warmer.

“Hello?! Is anyone here? I— I’m sorry, but—“

The stench of rot and decay assault her immediately, and she retches, turning away— but not before the sight is burned into her brain. 

Dead. They were all dead. Four bodies, crumpled in the living room, curled around each other as if they spent their last moments cowering in fear. A second glance answers her horrified question: bulletholes, simple and identical, through every forehead. 

She’s reeling backwards before she can even register the motion, and she falls, off the doorstep and back into the snow, with a startled cry. 

_ Find them,  _ the voices insist. 

She’s scrambling back to her feet and running, the little fledgling raven screeching a racket overhead. As she finally begins to  _ really _ look, the evidence piles up. 

Lumps in the snow, she realizes, are more bodies, hidden under ice. There are places where the soft, pristine white have been stained with a rusty red. She does not know how long they have been left here like this. 

“Anyone?!” She screams, voice shrill and raw. “Someone— is  _ anyone here _ ?!” 

Something carries her forward, and she flinches every time she steps over a mound of snow. Sometimes, she catches a glimpse of a hand or a face, frosted over by the cold. She’s shaking, and whether it’s from the frozen air or the horror of what is unfolding around her, she doesn’t know. 

Most of the bodies are dressed in thick fur and cloth, but a few reveal another piece of the story: uniforms, bleak and grey. Soldiers. However, she only notices one or two of those. There must’ve been many more, if this level of massacre was achieved. 

And massacre it  _ was _ . No matter how many times she calls out, not a single living soul is found. Only more black birds, pecking at frozen eyelids, hoping for a soft treat inside.

Eventually, she reaches the edge of the village, nearing the entrance to the forest. She sees another slash of red at the tree line, and her heart sinks, before she realizes that it’s a much different shade of red then the old and dried blood peeking through the snow.

This red was wild and bright, and it was  _ moving.  _

Panicked, Renee ducks behind one of the gnarled, barren trees, the bark rough and icy against her pale skin. She’s still shaking, even harder now as the cold finds a way to worm into her bones. She can’t even feel her feet anymore— whether she’s relieved or terrified, she cannot tell. 

Slowly, she ghosts from tree to tree, grateful for the snow to muffle each careful step. Eventually, she creeps close enough to get a clearer view of what  _ thing _ was crouched in the snow.

Her breath hitches, tight and horrified in her lungs.

_ A child _ .

Whether it was a boy or girl, she could not tell, but their hair was wild and crimson, tangled in thick knots and matted against their head. Their limbs seemed so thin and small, as they pawed greedily at the dirt. They were digging— the soil so hard and frozen that their fingernails had torn and were bleeding. They looked so _ tiny _ , so  _ fragile _ , and Renee’s heart swelled up to her throat with sympathy. No child should live through anything like this. No child should be crying in the cold, scared and alone, surrounded by the dead bodies of their family. How they’d hidden well enough to survive this endeavor, she’ll never know, but she didn’t know how much it surviving had done. There was no way they’d see the end of this winter— they looked much too young and small to thrive on their own. 

Despite her desperate attempts, She couldn’t see their face. No matter what angle she tried to catch a glance from, their visage was hidden with thin, tattered furs and wild matted locks. She wondered, her stomach twisting, how long they’d already been alone. How long the ice and snow had preserved the bodies surrounding them. 

When she listened, she could hear them weep. Hiccuping, sad little sobs, and between each shuddering breath, they spoke. 

_ “Ég mun greiða þeim til baka fyrir það sem þeir hafa gert.” _

The language was foreign, and she had no idea where she was— let alone  _ when _ . For all she knew, this could be a language long dead through time and change. The Void never seemed to care about the laws of time.

But the cadence sounded vaguely similar, and it rang bells in the back of her head. Ears straining, she listened closer.

“ _ þeir komast ekki upp með þetta. fjölskyldu minni verður ekki gleymt.” _

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand what this child was saying. The voices offered no help, and no consolation. They stayed surprisingly silent. She wondered if this is what they so desperately wanted her to see.

There was a tiny croak from above, and Renee’s head snapped up. Above, on a weak little branch, perched the tiny bird from earlier. The child seemed to hear this as well, stilling from their panicked digging, before whirling around. 

_ Hide _ , the voices warned, and she didn’t hesitate to duck behind the tree, trembling as she hunched down into the cold. She listened as the bird cried out again, before hearing the snapping of twigs, and the sound of something small hitting the show. 

The child must’ve stood, because then she heard tentative little footsteps, moving forward towards the fallen creature. When she dared to peek out behind the frosty bark, she could see the little human picking up the bird, cooing down at it, still sniffling and hiccuping under their breath. It was still alive, little feathers rustling as it peered up at them, letting out little peeps and croaks.

Slowly, the child turned, moving back towards their mound of snow and dirt.  _ “Fyrirgefðu.”  _ They whispered, their soft voice carrying through the empty trees, before there was an absolute racket of peeping, and a resounding  _ crack _ . They were turned away from Renee, and she couldn’t see the little animal any further, but it didn’t take a scientist’s mind to figure out what they had done.

Still trembling, the child crouches down, still hiccuping as they place the still bundle of black feathers into its shallow grave. They seemed to stay still for a long time, before fumbling with something that had been lying in the snow. 

An axe, she realized belatedly, and watched with wide eyes as the figure brought the blade of the weapon to their own palm, hurriedly swiping it against their dark skin. They didn’t even cry out or whimper as the wound welled up with blood, only laid their hand tenderly on the dead bird, occasionally sniffling. 

_ “Með þessari fórn setti ég þig frjálsan, voldugan veiðimann.” _

Their voice was louder now, more sure, and it rang out through the trees. Breath quivering, she watched, hand pressed against the bark of the tree she cowered behind.

_ “Ég ákalla þig, sem þjónn guðanna.”  _ The little figure slowly clambered to their feet, brittle arms wrapping around themself as they shivered. The big trees and the painful silence of the forest only made them seem smaller. 

_ “Gefðu mér kraftinn til að gera það sem enginn annar gat!” _

Their voice bounced and echoed against the snow.

_ “Og leyfi mér að hefna sín gegn þeim sem misgjörðu mig!” _

The moment the last word left their lips, there was a shift. Like the world tilting on its axis, like the sun disappearing behind the horizon. A massive shadow swept across the barren forest, and the wind tumbled into a roar around them. The child let out a little surprised cry, falling backwards onto their rear. The trees seemed to grow longer, curling down and towering over them, pulling them further into the darkness ahead.

Renee didn’t understand what was happening, but every hair on her body stood on end, like the air was charged with static. Her instincts screamed for her to  _ run, _ to  _ get away from whatever was about to happen _ , but something kept her rooted in place. Silent, she continued to witness. 

Something between a shriek and a roar split through the icy air. Once again, familiar— and Renee instinctually felt fear spear through her stomach. 

And then it appeared. 

Like a ghost, a massive rumbling figure melted from between the trees, as if it were coming from the darkness— no, as if it  _ were  _ the darkness itself. It was larger than any bear, any beast, any  _ monster  _ she’d ever seen, in fiction and reality alike, and Renee could only stare forward in terror.

It was canine in shape, but it was too dark to truly see what form the  _ thing _ took. The air vibrated against her ears, and it took her a few moments to realize it was a growl, emanating from the monster. It padded forward on heavy paws, claws easily tearing up the frozen earth below its feet.

The child curled up tightly, trying in vain to scoot away from the creature, but their limbs were sluggish and slow. Renee had never wanted children, never thought herself a motherly figure, but she wanted nothing more than to protect them in this moment. The poor little one had faced more horror than anyone should in their lifetime— and yet, she couldn’t move. As if the cold had frozen her in place, leaving her immobile and useless. 

Finally snapping from their dazed fear, the little one flipped onto all fours, scurrying to their feet and sprinting back towards the ghostly village.

It only took a single bound from The Beast to overtake them.

Renee could only watch in horror as the tiny little human was pinned into the snow. Renee could only listen with fear as they screamed and screamed and  _ screamed _ when massive claws tore open their back, stripping the flesh in ribbons. Renee could only stay hidden, feeling whatever was in her stomach begin to violently launch itself up her throat, as the child’s screams turned to sobs, then whimpers, then sick gurgles.

The flesh of their back was flayed open, and she could  _ see _ the flashes of white bone peeking within all the pulpy red. They were still writhing, choking and retching into the snow, and even if she couldn’t understand their language, Renee knew what pleading sounded like. 

The monster stayed still for a long while, breathing in heavy, thundering gasps, drool dripping from its gaping, fanged maw as it watched its prey squirm.

It huffed, closing its wicked mouth, before it nosed against their spine, and pressed  _ in _ .

The sight before her was branded into her skull, seared into her brain. There was nothing she could do to stop the events unfolding before her, so Renee just watched as the beast began to  _ claw _ and  _ tear its way _ into the tiny, shuddering form in the snow. And the screaming began again, but this time  _ shrill _ and  _ violent.  _ Renee didn’t know human beings were capable of making these sounds, and yet the child made them all the same, clawing at the snow, thrashing and fighting to get  _ away _ , desperate to escape. 

It was worthless. There was no way to stop it. The beast’s mind was made, and Renee couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Somehow, the creature was  _ fitting _ . It clawed and it tore and she could hear the little body breaking and ripping, and yet the massive form seemed to be easily fighting its way into the child’s skin. 

The child didn’t stop screaming.

It felt like hours had passed before the beast was finally hidden from sight, settled into its new host. The little human stopped shrieking and just…  _ sobbed _ . Their back was still torn open, but their body hadn’t exploded into unrecognizable gore. They just clutched at the snow, wailing into the earth, as the darkness slowly retreated back into the forest, the trees righting themselves up again.

By the tree line, a little lump of snow quivered, before something popped from the ground like a sprouting plant. The baby bird cheeped, feathers wet and covered in earth, before it began to hop forward, towards where the child lay, still wailing and begging to the whistling wind. Like a spell being broken, Renee finally lept to her feet, only to stumble and fall forward in the snow. 

The child’s head shot up at the disturbance, and panicked, she met their gaze. Their left eye was shredded and bleeding, a wicked torn wound that reached from their hairline down to their chin. Their right one, glowing bright and red like a thousand hellfires. Their cheeks were covered with dirt and wet with tears, and they stared forward at her, small lips parted with shock.

The voices sang a name, confirming what she already knew. 

_ Bloodhound _ .

And like that, Renee was being violently sucked backwards, into the familiar swirling violet of The Void. She tumbled, reeling through time and being flung through dimensions, until she found herself falling into her own bedroom.

Her fingers and toes burned like fire from the sudden change in temperature, and she felt her body jerk, before she vomited violently onto the hardwood floor— a delayed reaction to everything she was forced to witness.

“ _ Why?!”  _ She eventually sobbed, slamming her fist against the ground. “ _ Why did you show me this?! _ ”

For once, the voices did not answer. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have about 572738273 headcannons for bloodhound, and this is one that’s been dancing around in my head for a long time. however this is in no way connected to my mirocthound universe!!! i might continue on in a story with this hc but this sadness is gonna stay far away from the Terrific Threesome!!! 
> 
> Fun fact: I know Bloodhound’s religion is Norse in nature, but it seems to have some differences and adjustments. The beast they summoned is loosely based off of the Norse spirit Fenrir: a giant wolf who was originally raised to protect the gods and the nine worlds, but ended up growing too fast and causing too much destruction. They ended up chaining him up and now he waits for the chance to exact his revenge. I thought it would be fitting bc: 1) big ass wolf, and 2) revenge.
> 
> anyhoo here’s the promised translations for everything:
> 
> -Ég mun greiða þeim til baka fyrir það sem þeir hafa gert: “I will pay them back for what they have done”
> 
> -þeir komast ekki upp með þetta. fjölskyldu minni verður ekki gleymt: “they will not get away with this. my family will not be forgotten”
> 
> -Fyrirgefðu: “sorry”
> 
> -Með þessari fórn setti ég þig frjálsan, voldugan veiðimann: “With this sacrifice I set you free, mighty hunter”
> 
> -Ég ákalla þig, sem þjónn guðanna: “I call upon you, as the servant of the gods”
> 
> -Gefðu mér kraftinn til að gera það sem enginn annar gat: “ Give me the power to do what no one else could”
> 
> -Og leyfi mér að hefna sín gegn þeim sem misgjörðu mig: “ And allow me to take revenge on those who have wronged me”


End file.
